


Unbidden Hindrance

by indridason



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Big Sis Aranea, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of vomiting, M/M, Sick Fic, holy wow i'm actually writing fluff what is this madness, it's okay they are guilty later, pre-polyship, the bros are mean to prom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-04-19 20:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14244675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indridason/pseuds/indridason
Summary: Prompto catches a nasty flu on the road. He doesn't tell the others, and when Aranea swoops in to roast the bros for not noticing, Prompto gets the brunt of the backlash.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kaciart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaciart/gifts).



> I wrote this for Kaci because she is wonderful and shares so much with us. Also she has fantastic ideas and it's super good for my almost non-existent motivation to write. I'm going to get trapped in a loop of writing thank you fics for her because she gave me the inspiration to write in the first place!

When Prompto feels the first signs of a cold, he ignores it. The Regalia broke down the other day and they’ve been doing hunts back to back in order to get enough money for the new parts. He can’t sidetrack the others over a measly sore throat.

He continues to ignore it as it turns from _probably just a cold_ to _definitely not a cold._

He still refuses to tell the others when it becomes constant nausea and exhaustion, but it’s hard to hide his complete lack of appetite from Ignis. Or that he can’t wake up enough for his morning run with Gladio. Or that he’s cut off all physical contact with Noct because he’s afraid he’ll give it to his best friend.

It definitely tips them off when he nearly passes out on a hunt.

Trekking out to the very dark and very ominous location in the forest had been hard enough. His lungs must be full of shrapnel for how they hurt with each breath. His stomach churned the whole hike and he kept searching for spots he could hide away from the others in case he needed to vomit.

Prompto decides to hang back further than he usually does when they find the bounty. His hands aren’t steady, and he’s terrified of missing his shot and ending up hurting one of his friends. The others seem to be handling the daemons fine without him anyway.

Until, of course, one goblin slips past Gladio and launches itself straight at Prompto. He lets off a shot but his reflexes are almost nonexistent. The bullet goes wide and the daemon is on him, knocking him onto his side into the dirt, sharp nails scrabbling at his shoulder and tearing his clothes. He’s dizzy, his head sprawling in confusion, and his gun drops into the ether in a flash of blue. Instinct has his hands trying to push the daemon off, but its’ claws are just scraping up the soft skin of his palms and wrists.

He’s grappling with the infernal creature until suddenly he isn’t. The goblin is knocked off him and he’s too busy catching his breath to try to figure out just what the hell is going on. Something in his throat catches and his stomach twists and then he’s quickly turning his body so he can throw up stomach bile. At lunch, he had elected to move his food around into silly little patterns on his plate instead of actually eating, and it shows.

There’s a hand at his back, patting him, and he thinks it’s Gladio because it’s kind of rough. But when he turns, he sees black armor and silver hair, and a voice that is decidedly not Gladio’s is asking him, “Hey, Kid, you poisoned?”

He’s still gagging a bit on stomach acid, so the best response he can give is to shake his head no. The motion makes him concerningly dizzy.

Aranea’s glaring at him and he’s still trying to figure out how and when she got here. She’s not a hallucination, he thinks? She turns her glare on the others who are now approaching them before he can ask. The fight is finished, only black sludge remains on the ground behind them. Noctis has some scuff marks Ignis will want to tend to, but none of them look injured, thankfully.

Aranea’s posture is the image of unimpressed. Her hand is still on his back, and the warmth is uncomfortable but still somehow nice. “One of you wanna tell me why you’re making Blondie fight while sick?” she accuses bluntly.

“What?” Noctis immediately remarks, offense written all over his face. He steps closer, but seems to be keeping his distance from Aranea. Noctis would never admit it, but Prompto knows Aranea makes him nervous. Prompto can sympathize.

Ignis, in classic contrast to his prince, has his arms crossed, expression considering. “I have noticed he’s been skipping meals.”

There’s hands under his knees and across his back, and suddenly he’s fighting a wave of nausea as he’s hoisted into the air. He’s clinging in terror to whatever he can, because he does _not_ want to throw up on Aranea. _Holy shit Aranea is carrying him._ And he’s grabbing her armor. And touching her boobs. He can’t hear anything over the screaming in his brain so he releases his grip and carefully folds his hands over his stomach, which is still _churning._ His face was already heated from the puking, but it must still be glaringly obvious that he has _made a mistake._

When he can finally calm his frantic train of thought enough to tune back into the conversation, Aranea isn’t even looking at him. She has an eyebrow raised at Noctis. “None of you even noticed?”

At first he thinks she’s talking about him grabbing her boobs, but the anger in Noct’s face says that he’s about to snap at someone. Uh oh.

Noctis stomps closer and his hands reach out towards Prompto in an aborted movement, almost like he wants to take him from Aranea. Noct stops himself and instead schools his face into a glare. “He never said anything,” he hisses, glancing at Prompto with a bit of betrayal.

The look makes Prompto's guts twist, but hiding his illness was necessary. He just didn't hide it good enough. Additionally, he kind of secretly loves it when Noct gets all possessive, because _hello_ confidence boost, but he’s also pretty sure Aranea could eat Noct alive. He needs to say something. They’ve all been talking about him like he can’t participate in the conversation, which, honestly? His throat burns from the acid tearing up his esophagus and he’s afraid that if he opens his mouth only more sick will come out. But he can see the tension building in Noct’s shoulders and also, he’s not _actually_ an invalid.

“Guys-- It’s okay,” he tries to soothe. He has to clear his throat, ouch, and his stomach twinges a bit but he thinks he’ll be able to keep a handle on it. He _really_ wants Aranea to put him down but he’s terrified to ask and he probably wouldn’t be able to stand on his own anyway. “I’m fine.”

Noct stepping forward seems to have broken the no man’s land between the three and Aranea, and then Ignis is also at his side, the back of his palm resting over Prompto’s face. He’s unprepared for how _nice_ the coolness of Iggy’s palm feels against his sweat-soaked skin.

“You have a fever,” Ignis says, disapproval apparent in only the set of his mouth. “We don’t have enough money for a remedy if we also want to fix the Regalia.”

“We have to get to Lestallum in the next couple days,” Gladio adds.

Guilt stabs somewhere deep in the soft part of his chest, closes his throat. If only he’d been able to kill that stupid goblin by himself. He’d be fine, no one would notice his illness, and he’d stay out of the way on the next couple hunts. They’d be able to get the car running and he’d rest and he’d be _fine_ and he wouldn’t be holding the others back.Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He’s startled when Aranea starts to walk, and he grabs at her for support again but this time carefully latches onto her armor around her middle. All the spikes on her armor makes him incredibly nervous and he’d really rather not scrape himself on one and bleed all over her. Also, she’s carrying him like he weighs nothing and he can feel the solid muscle along her arms and her abs and oh boy he needs to stop thinking about that. 

“I’m stuck in this area for a couple days while Biggs and Wedge are off meeting with someone,” Aranea is saying. The others are trailing behind her like a small flock of confused ducklings. “I can watch the kid while you lot scrounge up some funds.”

Prompto protests “ _But--_ ”, right as Noctis makes a displeased sound.

“That is very kind of you, Ms. Highwind,” Ignis interjects, giving Noctis a pointed _be quiet_ look before he turns back to Aranea. “We will make haste with some high pay-off hunts.”

Noct lapses into moody silence and Gladio just grunts. Prompto kind of hates everything about this. This mess is his fault though, so complaining would be selfish.

“Uh, Aranea…” Prompto finally decides to venture. He can tell that they’re heading in the direction of the nearest outpost. “Can you put me down now? Please?”

Aranea raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Aranea is an _experience_ let me tell you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brain keeps going "add more angst, _more angst_ , why isn't anyone severely injured and/or dying yet???" and I just answer "I have no idea what I'm doing, fight me."

After Noctis and the others leave him with Aranea to go take more hunts, things get worse. Aranea had rented a motel room, and the moment she carries him inside, his guts _contort._ He starts frantically flailing enough that she finally sets him down, and he rushes to the bathroom to dry heave over the toilet. 

At first, he begs Aranea to not look, and locks himself inside when he’s recovered enough to move. She leaves him alone without complaint, but after a couple of hours of on-and-off retching and trying to find _some_ kind of comfortable position on the cold tile floor, enough of his dignity has washed down the toilet for him to let her come in the bathroom. 

“Alright, enough of this,” she says. “Let’s get you in bed. We have trash cans for a reason, Kid.”

When Aranea steps close, her hands a comfort around his shoulders, a sharp, sweet citrus scent drifts over him. It masks the horrible smell of his forcibly expelled stomach contents, the smell of his sweat covering every inch of him. It feels something like relief.

She wipes his face off with a damp washcloth, far more careful than he had imagined she could be. The contact and soft care feel amazing, and she picks him up again and he melts into her arms. She’s taken her armor off, the spikes no longer a threat. Then he remembers how incredibly embarrassing being so reliant on someone else is, and whines at her to put him down. He can walk just fine, even if he’s slow and unsteady. 

She ignores him. Settles him into one of the beds, bandages the small scrapes from the goblin on his shoulder and palms, bullies him into drinking some water. 

He falls asleep trying to figure out if he is actually hearing her hum softly or not while she writes something down at the small motel desk. 

~

Aranea taking care of him is kind of weird, very embarrassing, but... nice. She’s abrasive and harsh with words, but is also quick to smile and has a sharp sense of humor. She doesn’t hesitate to touch him, and he soaks up the attention like a dusty, crumbling sponge. 

Aranea’s been forcing him to drink broth whenever he’s awake enough. He hasn’t thrown up for about half a day now, so there’s a small amount of noodles in his broth this time. Her expression tells him that he will regret it if he doesn’t at least attempt to eat the noodles. 

He’s sitting up and trying to choke down the broth when the others come back to get him. 

“Guys!” Prompto exclaims, hoping that his friends coming back is an acceptable enough excuse for Aranea to allow him to put the broth aside. She just rolls her eyes at him, and he takes that as permission.

He’s missed them. He’s been with Aranea for two days now, and she’s great-- she’s surprisingly gentle with him but tough when he needs it, and has managed to make him laugh and smile when all he wants to do is melt into the hotel bed, and the citrus smell that clings to her has grown to become a comfort--but after spending nearly every second of every day with the others for so long, it’s lonely to be without them. 

He stands up to greet them, too happy and excited to hide away under the covers. He still feels a bit light headed, and his throat is sore from all the puking, but much of his strength has returned because of the remedy the guys had dropped off the previous day.

“How are you feeling, Prompto?” Ignis asks, slipping his jacket off in the comfortable heat of the motel room. 

“Much better!” He beams. Noctis and Gladio bustle in behind Ignis. They’re talking, probably making jabs at each other, but when they look into the room, to Prompto, they quiet. There’s something suddenly stiff in their posture that makes him nervous. Noct is usually the first to run up and sling an arm around him, and then Gladio would chuckle and tease them both… They must be exhausted. They’ve worked so hard for him, while he lounged in bed for two days. “The remedy helped a lot, I’m sorry for causing so much trouble--”

“It’s quite alright, Prompto,” Ignis shushes. Again, there’s something-- weird, about his expression, but he’s always so composed that Prompto can’t pinpoint it. Gladio has his arms crossed over his chest, and Noct is frowning. They don’t seem… very happy to see him.

“Thank you for your help,” Ignis is saying to Aranea. “One more hunt should be able to cover the costs of taking care of Prompto in our absence.” 

“Don’t sweat it, Glasses,” Aranea says. She steps closer to ruffle Prompto’s hair, and he can feel her hand linger for just a second along his forehead, sneakily checking his temperature. He swats her away, sneakily appreciating it, but it also reminds him that he hasn’t brushed his hair in two days. “I had the room anyway, and it’s not like he ate a whole lot.”

She faces the others with that severe expression that, so far, has a 100% success rate of making Prompto cave to any and all of her demands. “Be careful, he’s not fully recovered yet. He needs food but he’s still having trouble keeping stuff down. Just pay more attention next time.”

“Noted,” Gladio says, gruffly. His voice is usually on the side of gruff, but right now the low tone makes Prompto’s stomach twist painfully. “Hopefully there won’t _be_ a next time.”

Prompto’s hands grab at his shirt, fidgeting into the fabric, and he finds it hard to look into any of their faces now. Are they… mad at him? He’s really made a mess of things.

Aranea shrugs at Gladio in her _your problem, not mine_ way. She turns away from them in a clear dismissal, and when she smirks at Prompto, her lips are tilted in a soft, affectionate way that he knows she would never admit to. She hugs him, her grip so tight it sort of hurts, and the knot in his chest unravels just a bit. “See you, Shortcake. Take it easy for a while. Try not to take on anymore daemons when you can barely stand.” 

“Bye, Nea. Thanks...” _For helping me, for brushing my hair back while I was miserable, for making me smile._ “For everything.” He breathes in her brisk citrus scent to steady himself before he follows the others out.

When he steps out into the chilly air, the others are already headed for the car, none of them checking to see if he’s even behind them. He wonders if they’d just drive off without him if he didn’t follow fast enough. 

“I hope you guys didn’t have too much trouble with the hunts?” he asks nervously. They all look a bit scuffed up and dirty, but no injuries stand out. 

“There was… some trouble,” Noctis says, vaguely. He won’t look directly at Prompto; hasn’t since first walking into the motel room. 

Oh gods, were they injured? If he had been there, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. _No,_ if he hadn’t forced them to take on dangerous hunts just to make him feel better, it wouldn’t have happened. They almost had enough gil to fix the car, and then he had to ruin it. Stall them at an outpost when they had more important things to do. No wonder they’re mad at him.

It’s then that Prompto notices a long tear in the side of Gladio’s black tank top. He reaches out to move the fabric, see how bad it is, _shit, the wound must be big if the clothing is torn this bad,_ but Gladio quickly steps out of the way. 

“Sorry, Kid,” Gladio says, hands up defensively, like Prompto will still try to touch him even though he’s just been so obviously rejected. “Just in case. Can’t be catching what you have.”

His heart sinks right into his churning stomach. _Stupid, stupid._ What’s that reaction? It’s nothing personal, the shield can’t get sick on the job. All of them should be staying far, far away from him. He’s holding them back enough as it is, he can’t get the others sick too. He’s responsible for Gladio’s injury in the first place, and now he’s a walking danger to them. He’s getting into a _car_ with them, why did they even pick him up?

“R-Right. Sorry,” he says. He folds his arms close, fingernails digging into the skin of his upper arms, so that he doesn’t accidentally try to touch the others again. 

“We had enough left over gil for a couple potions,” Ignis says, pausing so that Gladio and Noctis can catch up with him. “It’s fine, Prompto. We’ve spent enough time here.”

“Ugh, yeah. Let’s just get out of here already,” Noctis says, and all of them have turned back towards the car.

It’s cold out here, the sight of his friends backs as he trails behind them even colder, and he wants desperately to go back to Aranea’s motel room, curl up under the warm blankets, and ignore the painful writhing of his stomach.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is pre-polyship, so there's not a whole lot that is... overtly shippy, but promtis will always have my heart and soul

The more miles they cover, the worse Prompto feels. 

Ignis had put the top up and turned on the heat to fight the outside weather, but now the car is cramped and stuffy and _awful._ Not a word has been spoken since they left the outpost. The usual soft hum of the engine sounds like a growl, growing louder and rumbling through Prompto’s chest. 

The silence makes Prompto want to fill it, but the heavy minutes close up his throat. He watches the window, the trees blurring past, because he’s sure that if he looks at the others, he will only see anger. He has to wipe sweat from his forehead and breathe through his mouth because his airways feel blocked. 

A light drizzle starts up, and then turns to heavy rain. The drops obscure the view out of the windows, and watching the windshield wipers makes Prompto’s stomach clench. So now there’s nothing to distract him from the pervasive silence in the car. Those raindrops are drowning him in this metal box and his friends hate him and _he can’t take it._

“Where are we staying tonight?” he asks before he can stop himself. He tries to clear his throat of desperation and force his mouth into a smile.

“Well, definitely not another cushy hotel,” Gladio says, flat, from the back seat.

Prompto feels like he’s been slammed into a wall. He turns to look at Gladio, and his vision spins more than it should. “That’s not what I--”

Noctis glares at him, and the anger in his eyes makes Prompto recoil. “You seem like you had _so much_ fun with Aranea.”

“I--What?” He’s no stranger to anxiety-induced nausea, but right now he can’t decide if the painful clench in his lower abdomen is a warning of impending vomit or just a side effect of his shot nerves.

“Does she take care of you better than us?” Noctis continues, and that nausea spikes past a warning into immediate danger. His throat _burns._

“Noctis--” Ignis is protesting, but Prompto speaks over him.

“Pull over.” His voice is loud, steady, even though he has pressed a hand over his mouth.

“Prompto--” 

“ _Pull over.”_

Ignis brakes, suddenly and roughly. Prompto’s face nearly slams into the dashboard, his bandaged hands flying out to catch himself. His stomach is sloshing with the movement and _he is going to throw up._

“Goodness, Prompto. Wear your seatbelt,” he hears Ignis say, but he’s already throwing open his door and scrambling from the car. 

The blast of cold rain is a relief after the suffocating heat of the car. He can only appreciate it for a moment before he’s on his hands in the dirt, heaving up the small amount of soup Aranea had gotten him to eat. 

Harsh, gentle Aranea. _Does she take care of you better than us?_

How did he fuck this up so much? He’s so useless that everyone else has to take care of him. They went on a hunt and got hurt because he couldn’t fend off a damn _goblin._ And now they hate him because they have to watch out for the stupid blond kid that trips over his own feet while the prince of Lucis is trying to save lives. Noct wanted to just leave him with Aranea, right? Why didn’t he just… not come back; conveniently become unreachable?

He’s gasping, hacking up bile and excess saliva. It smells rancid, and his eyes water. _Useless, burden, waste._ His throat feels blocked, swollen, but he tries to choke out words. “I-- I’m s-sorry… I’m-- _Sorry.”_

Noct crouches down next to him, while he’s still retching. His eyes are wide, tilted in worry, and that’s _worse_ because he’s failed Noct and now his prince is squatting in the dirt in the _rain_ and Prompto’s going to _throw up on him._

“Prom,” Noctis breathes, so gently that Prompto almost doesn’t hear it over the heavy sound of rain. There’s regret and concern and _care_ in the soft undercurrent of his voice and, _gods,_ how can he sound like that when Prompto has done absolutely nothing to deserve it. 

Noctis reaches out, touches a hand to Prompto’s shoulder, and it’s too much. He jerks to his feet, vision spinning, and runs. 

It’s incredibly disorienting, running near blind in the smudgy rain as the world seems to shift underneath. Stomach roiling, the only thought _away, away, away._

There’s shouting behind him. His feet press harder into the mud, but they’re too close. Ahead, blurred shapes coalesce into an outcropping of rocks, and he veers towards them in hopes of cover. Prompto’s fast, but there’s absolutely no way he can outrun a guy who can fucking teleport, especially while dizzy and ill and the slick ground is tipping on its side. 

Prompto slams right into the rocks. There’s multiple points of pain where he collides with sharp bits, but he has no time, and there’s an opening between the jagged stones. He shoves himself into the thin space, crams himself as far back as he can go. Hard stone presses on his back and his chest, it constricts his breathing and he can feel the nausea spike back up, but it’s still better than facing the look in Noct’s eyes. 

Lights flash over his hiding spot, and the shouting gets closer. They know where he is, it’s not like there are any other places to hide. 

He flinches when his tiny space is lit up by a flashlight, too bright. He scrunches his eyes and turns his head to the opposite side, tries to become smaller and move further away. The cracks in the rocks are large enough to let water in, so even this hideaway isn’t dry. He can’t find enough purchase in the wet stone to leverage himself more into the cave. 

Noctis says his name, too gently, and then he’s groaning and cursing as he tries to force his way in between the rocks. He gives up halfway from the entrance to where Prompto is, thankfully not close enough to touch. 

“Prom, I’m sorry,” Noctis says in a rush. There’s an edge of panic in his voice. Prompto refuses to look at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-- I was being an ass.”

Prompto’s adrenaline from the running is waning, filtering out of his skin to make room for the wet coldness to take its place. His hands and arms hurt, his throat burns all the way down to his stomach. “Why?”

“I was… jealous. I could see how much you liked Aranea. And she helped you when we couldn’t.”

Jealous of Aranea? For what? It doesn’t make sense, _at all,_ so Prompto finally looks at Noctis. 

His eyes are downcast, lips pulled back in a way that says _ashamed._ And that’s wrong, because Prompto is the one that should be ashamed, _is_ ashamed, because he’s hiding, soaking wet, in a corner between some rocks and somehow he’s got his best friend, the _prince of Lucis_ doing the same.

“I’m not…” he struggles to breathe. _Good enough._ “You should just leave me. I’ll go back to Aranea, or Cindy, or _whoever._ I know that I just can’t keep up with you guys.”

“ _No_ ,” Noct says, looking up quickly. His hair is heavy with water, so it drips down into his eyes. He tries to wipe it away, but he can’t quite move his arms in the tight space. Despite looking like a frustrated, drowned cat, his eyes are intense and desperate and genuine. “Prom, _no._ You got sick and you didn’t _tell us._ How are we supposed to take care of you if you don’t tell us?”

“You’re not supposed to take care of me. I’m a crownsguard, Noct, remember?” Prompto has more freedom of movement, _another positive to being small now,_ so he gestures at Noct, “Crown,” then points to himself, “Guard.”

Noctis attempts to move closer again, which only succeeds in twisting his torso in a way that looks really uncomfortable. “Fuck that. You know it’s never been like that and it _won’t_ ever be like that, if I can help it. You’re my _friend._ You-- I _need_ you.”

He… He really doesn’t deserve that, but it’s incredibly, selfishly, nice to hear. Noctis is normally so closed off, so outwardly apathetic, but this version of him, honest and kind and fiercely protective, is the version that he loves. He has no idea what Noct sees in him, why he has chosen him again and again. But Noct has given him another chance to prove himself, and he will take that and do everything he can to deserve it. 

“I’m sorry I was a jerk. And the others. I’ll punch Gladio in the dick for you.”

There’s a disgruntled shout of _hey_ from outside of the rocks.

“I don’t think that’ll make me feel better.” But the image is making him giggle. He feels so stupid now, crammed in a crevice with water dripping down his back. He ran from his friends. And Noct chased him down to apologize. 

“That’s okay,” Noct says, and his small smile makes Prompto want to get out of this dumb cave and hug him. “We’ll do better, Prom. Just, please, tell us when something is wrong.”

Noct promised to do better, so he will too. He’s cold and wet and just starting to feel the edges of claustrophobia, but he feels miles more stable than before. “Okay.”

“Let’s get out of here.” Noct starts shifting away, dislodging pebbles and grumbling. Prompto moves to scurry after him, but his foot gets caught somewhere, and Noct ends up having to scramble back to pull him out. 

As soon as he’s free, back out in the rain, he latches his arms around Noct’s neck and refuses to let go. He’s shivering, and Noct is warm and comforting and _his best friend._

“We owe you some apologies as well, Prompto,” Ignis says, and his hands rest gently over Prompto’s shoulders. 

“Usually Noct is the possessive one,” Gladio cuts in, “But we all… got a little caught up.”

Noctis just glares at Gladio, and Prompto is back to being confused. He’s still not sure why they were all angry at him. Noct had said he was jealous. Which doesn’t make sense.

His arms are being unlatched from Noctis before he can mull that over more, and then he’s being carried. He yelps and scrambles for a hand hold, and thankfully this time there are no boobs to embarrassingly fondle. Although, Gladio’s pecs are also kind of distracting…

“Let’s get you to the car. You still have a fever.” Gladio’s already moving, and Prompto can’t protest. He’s so tired now that he’s not panicked. Gladio’s not wearing a goddamn shirt even in this weather, and his skin is so warm. 

“This rain can’t be good for you, the next outpost has a motel that we can rest up at” Ignis says, his hands checking Prompto’s temperature and passing a water bottle to him with instructions to sip carefully. He’s back to aggressively mothering and everything is right in the world. 

Noctis walks quietly beside them, and his hand slips into Prompto’s. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS THE FIRST FIC I'VE EVER FINISHED WOOOO
> 
> Please let me know what you think of the ending, I'm very unused to endings hahaha. Concrit is welcome!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading all you lovelies ;A;
> 
> (Also I'm terrible and completely forgot to thank Saltslimes for beta reading for meee <3 thank you so much salt!)
> 
> And of course, thanks again to Kaciart, all around wonderful human <3


End file.
